“He gave me the tip,” I said. “But I haven’t spoken to him since.”
“Apart from the press conference.”
“Right,” I allowed. “But not privately. He doesn’t know I’m following up. And it’s better if it stays that way.”
Graham dragged a hand through his silver hair. “So, we’ve got two options. Either the FIA is ignoring the missing tape…”
“Or,” I said, eyes glinting, “someone’s supplying Obsidian with spare FIA tape. To reseal the port.”
He sat back, grinning. “Oh, that’s good. You’re a smart cookie.”
“I know.” I sipped my coffee, eyes scanning the room again. A few mechanics passed us, but no one slowed. “But how the hell do we get the right person to talk?”
Graham raised his brows. “Kid, you get friendly.”
We didn’t clink glasses—we weren’t stupid—but the gleam in Graham’s eyes said it all. This was the story. And we were both in far too deep to back out now.
Then the atmosphere in the room shifted—just slightly, but enough to make my shoulders stiffen.
Graham noticed too. “What is it?”
I didn’t answer. Just angled my head a fraction, eyes on the dining room entrance.
Aleks had arrived.
He was flanked by a small swarm of Obsidian personnel. His assistant walked beside him, tablet in hand, rattling off Aleks’s schedule with machine-gun precision. Behind the Obsidian team, Jax Rivers ambled along, sunglasses indoors, lazily plucking a grape from the buffet table and tossing it into his mouth like the whole day was a joke. One of the Nova PR officers trailed just behind, already eyeing which tables to steer him toward for maximum optics.
Aleks looked… annoyingly composed. Freshly pressed shirt, sharp jacket, not a single hair out of place. Only the faint shadows under his eyes betrayed the fact that he hadn’t slept much either.
He scanned the room—and saw me.
His eyes locked on mine for a second too long.
A second too aware.
I forced myself not to react. Not to smile. Not to fidget.
Graham followed my gaze and let out a low hum of recognition. “Speak of the devil.”
I picked up my fork as if omelette was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.
Aleks looked away, saying something low to his assistant, and continued toward the far end of the room. But I felt his presence like a live current, my skin prickling with it.
Graham smirked into his toast. “You’re blushing, kid.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
I stabbed a piece of tomato like it had insulted my family. “You’re imagining things.”
I tried not to watch Aleks get seated, his party spreading across three tables. Jax sat with him, chatting loudly about something inane that I didn’t take in.
“We done here?” Graham asked, mercifully dropping his comments on the colour of my cheeks.
“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat. “Let’s get moving.”
He rose first, grabbing his notebook and the last of his toast. I followed a beat behind, smoothing my expression into something neutral, something that wouldn’t raise questions.
